


You're The Best Kind Of Bad Something

by clarkes_murphy



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 14:03:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14854179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkes_murphy/pseuds/clarkes_murphy
Summary: “It’s long.”Villanelle frowns.“Your life line, on your palm,” Eve continues, glancing up at Villanelle's curious face. “It’s long.”“That is ironic.”





	You're The Best Kind Of Bad Something

Sunlight spills through the large windows onto the dark wood floor. Tiny shards of glass lie speckled amongst the yellow puddles, flecked with red liquid. Loud French music blasts from the radio atop the dresser.

“Shit. What a mess.” Eve’s voice is groggy, thick under the duvet she’s currently peeking out from under.

“At least it was not just you this time,” Villanelle mumbles back, already sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “Besides, I do not pay for this. So, I don’t care.” Smirking, she holds Eve’s gaze as she reaches over and tosses an empty wine glass onto the floor. The neck snaps in two, the rest of it shattering into pieces on impact. Villanelle regards it with a bored expression, leaning down to scoop some of the glass up in her hand. The pieces sit in her palm, nestled together as she cups her hand around them. Selecting a bigger shard, she holds it up to the sunlight with a smile. “Pretty.”

“You’re so weird,” Eve sighs.

“I know.”

Eve sits up beside Villanelle, raking her fingers through her tangled hair. Gently, she takes Villanelle's hands in her own, tipping the glass onto the mattress. Now cradling empty palms, she pauses before using her finger to trace Villanelle's life line.

“It’s long.”

Villanelle frowns.

“Your life line, on your palm,” Eve continues, glancing up at Villanelle's curious face. “It’s long.”

“That is ironic.”

Eve laughs, a loud guffaw that surprises Villanelle. “You’re funny sometimes.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

“Hm.” Villanelle sits quietly, twisting a strand of Eve's hair around her finger. “No one has called me funny before.”

“I’m sure you’ve been called a whole lot of other things, though.”

Villanelle laughs. “Yes, I have.”

Eve removes her hair from Villanelle's hold. “I gotta wash this. I feel like a troll.”

“You are beautiful, Eve.”

“Not right now, I’m not,” she grumbles.

“You are always beautiful.”

Glancing up, Eve's eyes lock with Villanelle's. They are wide, and earnest. And scared.

“It still terrifies you, doesn’t it?” Eve's voice is soft as her eyes stay trained on Villanelle's face.

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Letting yourself be vulnerable.” Eve shuffles forward until her knees are resting against Villanelle's.

The song on the radio switches to a slower track, the tinkling of a piano drifting across the room. Villanelle's breath hitches in her chest – it’s barely noticeable, but Eve does. She lifts a hand, placing it lightly on the side where Villanelle's heart lies.

“Anna once said I had a black heart.” Villanelle's voice is small. Hard.

Eve keeps her hand pressed against Villanelle, feeling her heartbeat pulsing beneath her rib cage. Eve smiles softly. “That’s not true.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I see the way you look at me. I see you. I see your heart. And it’s good.”

Villanelle leans in, studying Eve's lips. “What else?”

“I see the way you watch me. The way your eyes soften, and sometimes, your mouth falls open just a little, as if you can’t quite control it.” The bedsheets wrinkle as Eve grips them. “You’ve never wanted to hurt me, not really. And the times when you did hurt me—”

“I regret more than anything,” Villanelle blurts.

“I know,” Eve says, running her hand down Villanelle's arm before taking her hand. “I know.”

Villanelle's lip twitches. Her chest flutters, a cage of bones unable to fully contain the butterflies beating against it. “Let’s go.” She gets up abruptly, much to Eve's surprise.

“Wha—where?”

“To wash your hair.”

Eve chuckles. “I don’t need help with that, thank you.”

“But I want to help you.” Villanelle nibbles on her bottom lip. She seems… nervous? “Come. I’ll get you a towel.”

Stunned into silence, Eve stands, following Villanelle into the bathroom. The tiled floor is cold, and she winces when her bare skin touches it. Villanelle is crouched over the bath, watching the water cascade out of the taps. The bath fills quickly, and Villanelle gets to her feet, turning to face Eve with a smile. “Ready.” She taps the towel, folded and sat upon the closed toilet lid. “For you.”

This is a new situation. For a moment, they are both silent.

“I will leave you to undress. Call me when you are ready for me to wash your hair.” Villanelle flashes a small smile, walking past Eve towards the door.

But Eve grabs her wrist. “Wait.” She holds her there, running her thumb across smooth skin. “Stay. Please.”

Villanelle turns back, studying Eve's face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Villanelle whispers. She takes a few steps backwards and ends up leaning against the sink.

Eve maintains eye contact as she begins undressing. First goes her t-shirt, followed by her sweatpants. Villanelle can’t tear her eyes away as Eve flushes pink, smiling shyly, now clad in nothing but her underwear. She reaches back to grip at her bra clasp, but her arms stay rigid, fingers unmoving. Villanelle straightens back up, keeping a close eye on Eve's face as she slinks over to her.

“May I?”

Eve nods, and Villanelle moves to stand behind her. She trails her fingers from Eve's shoulders to her hips, marvelling at her lithe frame and soft skin.

“Beautiful.”

The clasp undoes easily, and her nimble fingers tiptoe up to pull down the straps. A kiss is placed on Eve's left shoulder, and then her right. She fails to supress a shudder when Villanelle steps forward and presses her body against Eve's back. Then she moves backwards a little, rubbing circles onto Eve's hips with her thumbs.

“Is this okay?”

“God, yes. I mean, yeah. It’s okay.”

Villanelle's fingers press lightly into Eve's hipbones, before hooking into the waistband of her underwear. She pulls down, slowly. Eve's breathing quickens. She’s fully exposed now. And she can feel Villanelle's eyes burning into her, drinking her in.

“Turn around.” It’s not a command. More a hopeful request.

And Eve complies, crossing her arms over her chest before turning to face her lover.

“No. Don’t hide.” Villanelle gently pulls Eve's arms down. “You are perfect.”

“You’re a convincing liar,” Eve laughs.

“I am not lying.”

Eve smiles softly. “So, my bath?”

“Oh, yes!” Villanelle springs to life, sprinkling some delicious-smelling salts into the bath before taking Eve's hand and leading her over to the tub. “I hope it’s not too hot.”

Eve steps into the water – it’s wonderfully warm, and she sighs with pleasure as she sinks into the heat. “God, I really needed this.”

Villanelle perches on the side of the tub, eyes fixed on Eve's closed eyes and rosy cheeks. She begins massaging Eve's head, much to Eve's delight. Then she motions for Eve to lean back before gathering handfuls of water to trickle onto her wild mane.

“Your hair is so thick.”

“God, I know.”

“I like it.”

“You do?”

“Yes.” Villanelle's voice is the most honest it’s ever been. “I like everything about you.”

Eve cracks one eye open, smiling up at Villanelle, who’s now squeezing a dollop of shampoo into her hand.

“Tilt your head back.”

Eve does, and Villanelle is momentarily captivated by her slender neck. She reaches out to touch it, stroking from Eve's jaw down to her collarbone. Eve tries to hold still, but she can’t stop the shiver that shoots down her spine.

“Was that not okay?” Villanelle pulls her hand back immediately, brows creased with worry.

“No. No, it’s fine.”

“If you do not want me to touch you, then—”

“I do want you to. Touch me.” Eve's eyes are open now, staring up at Villanelle intently. “Please.”

Villanelle nods swiftly. Then, she rubs the shampoo between her palms and proceeds to wash Eve's hair. Her fingers are deft, untangling knots more skilfully and delicately than Eve would ever expect from a ruthless assassin.

“Lie back,” Villanelle says.

Eve does as she’s told, relaxing under the water as the shampoo is rinsed from her hair. Villanelle repeats the process with conditioner, then stands, holding the bar of body soap in one hand. She stares at it for a moment; then places it in Eve's hand.

“Your hair is done.”

Eve's eyes flick to the soap. “What about this?”

For the first time since knowing her, Eve sees something that looks like fear flash in Villanelle's eyes.

“It’s okay. I want you to.”

Villanelle thinks back to the last time she was truly intimate with a woman. Not just sex. But true intimacy. She thinks of Anna, and her heart throbs with a familiar dull ache. But then she thinks of Eve, and how different it is with her. Her heart doesn’t hurt when she thinks of Eve. It sings. She takes back the soap bar, lathering it up in her hands. Eve is sitting up in the bath now, watching Villanelle expectantly. Soapy clouds sit in Villanelle's palms. She sits on the side of the tub once again, taking Eve's hand. Starting at her fingertips, she massages the soap into Eve's skin – over her hands, up her arms, across her shoulders. Eve trembles, losing herself in Villanelle's touch. She gasps as Villanelle's hands slowly move down to her breasts. Her touch isn’t rough or greedy – she simply rubs over Eve's chest once, eyes flicking down for a split second before her cheeks flush rose-pink and she averts her gaze once more. Eve grins, enjoying seeing Villanelle's usually–calm composure crack a little.

Eve's stomach and back are next, after which Villanelle's hands move down to stop on her hips. Eve gives what can only be described as a sultry smile, lifting her knees and spreading her legs apart beneath the soapy layer that sits on top of the water.

Villanelle chokes on whatever words were sitting on her tongue. Eve is delighted. She takes Villanelle's hands and places them on her thighs. The air is thick with tension. Sweat beads on Eve's forehead, despite her being in the bath. Villanelle takes her time, washing Eve's thighs, then her calves, then her ankles. Her fingers scurry over Eve's feet, and Eve can’t stop the laughter that bubbles up from her chest.

“That tickles!”

Villanelle pauses, staring at the grin on Eve's face. Then she repeats her actions, watching in awe as Eve's face scrunches up with more laughter.

“Villanelle! Please, it’s too much!”

She continues for a few more seconds, mesmerised by Eve's crinkled eyes and open mouth. Then she scoots off the tub, choosing instead to crouch next to it with her chin resting on the edge. This puts her face at the same level as Eve's, and she can’t help but stare.

“I can feel your eyes on me,” Eve says quietly, eyes shut once more.

“I want to look at you forever.”

Eve smiles, eyes still closed. And Villanelle just looks at her for a while, the room silent apart from the occasional drip from the tap. When Eve has had enough, she stirs, cradling Villanelle's face in her hand momentarily before standing. Her towel is wrapped around her as soon as she steps out of the tub, and Villanelle makes a grand show of wrapping her up tightly, tucking her wet hair behind her ears with a soft smile.

“Better?”

“Much.”

“Good.”

She leads Eve into the bedroom, careful to avoid the glass still scattered across the floor. The cupboard door is already open, and she quickly grabs a clean pair of pyjamas that she hands to Eve.

“You’re not gonna help me put these on?” Eve's smirk sends electricity shooting through Villanelle's veins.

She unravels the towel, patting dry Eve's skin before tossing it onto the bed. Naked once again, Eve shivers.

“You’re cold.”

“A little, yeah.”

Villanelle quickly helps her dress, her eyes never straying from Eve's face.

“Thank you, Villanelle.”

“It was my pleasure.” Villanelle's mouth opens as if to say more, but she hesitates. She takes a step closer to Eve, so there is barely any space between them.

The height difference is more apparent now. Villanelle tilts her head down a little; their lips are close, so close. Eve grips the bottom of Villanelle's sweater.

“Please,” Eve whispers.

“Tell me what you want.”

Eve pauses. Then she leans in until their lips are almost touching, and she whispers: “Kiss me.”

Villanelle doesn’t need to be asked a second time. As soon as the words leave Eve's mouth, their lips are pressed together. Villanelle tastes like wine and Eve savours the sharpness, deepening the kiss as their hands wander to pull their bodies even closer together.

“We really should clean this place up,” Eve mumbles, lips still pressed against Villanelle's.

“Or we could make the mess even worse,” Villanelle smirks. Stepping back from the kiss, she quirks an eyebrow at Eve before scampering off to the kitchen. She returns seconds later with something behind her back.

“What’re you up to?”

“Noooooothing,” Villanelle sings, batting her eyelashes a little too innocently.

“Shockingly, I don’t believe you.”

“You want to see what I have?”

“Duh.”

“Okay, close your eyes.”

Eve does as she’s told… and is rewarded with a face full of cake.

“I got you!” Villanelle laughs.

Eve laughs with her, wiping cake out of her eyes (and eyebrows). “I just got clean, Vill!”

Villanelle pauses, still holding the now-misshapen cake. “What did you call me?”

Eve ducks her head, suddenly shy. “I don’t know. A nickname, I guess?”

“Nickname. Hm.” Villanelle drags a finger through the mangled frosting atop the cake. “I never had a nickname before. I like it.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good,” Eve smiles, reaching out for her own taste of the cake.

But Villanelle snatches the cake away. “Nu uh,” she smirks, shaking her head. Then she holds up her pointer finger, still covered in frosting. “Here.”

A matching smirk creeps onto Eve's face as she steps closer, bringing Villanelle's finger up to rest on her bottom lip. Then, she licks it ever-so-slowly, enjoying the way Villanelle's pupils dilate when she sucks off the remaining frosting.

“Delicious.”

“Wow,” Villanelle breathes.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you truly speechless before.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

Eve chuckles, sliding onto the bed and patting the space beside her. “When did you even have time to go out and get a cake?”

“I made it,” Villanelle shrugs, perching on the bed next to Eve. “While you were still asleep earlier this morning.”

“Since when do you bake?”

“Since you told me that chocolate cake is your favourite food.”

Now it’s Eve who is lost for words. A sudden warmth fills her heart; a warmth that she hasn’t felt for a long time, until now.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m alright.”

“More cake?”

“Yes, please.”

Villanelle cuts them each a slice, handing Eve hers on a small plate. “Bon Appétit.”

“Thank you.”

They eat in comfortable silence. A glob of frosting sticks to Villanelle's lip, and Eve reaches up to wipe it away with her thumb. And Villanelle lets her.

“So, what do you want to do today?” asks Villanelle, once they’ve finished eating. “We could go shopping. Or take a walk by the lake.”

“Actually,” Eve smiles, placing her empty plate on the floor, “I was thinking we could stay in and watch a movie.”

Nothing prepares Eve for the way Villanelle's eyes light up. She looks happier than Eve has ever seen her, and Eve is grinning like an idiot.

“Which movie?”

“Whichever one you want.”

There is a pause, and then Villanelle launches herself at Eve, wrapping her in something akin to a koala bear hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you, Eve.”

Eve just hugs her back, holding Villanelle's waist. Her head rests against Villanelle's chest, and she hears her heartbeat – light, speedy.

“You have a good heart, Villanelle,” she whispers.

It’s unclear if Villanelle hears this – but the way her arms tighten around Eve tells her that she does.

They end up watching The Lion King – Villanelle insists that she chose it because she likes watching Scar being evil, but Eve suspects that it’s because she enjoys the musical numbers (and these suspicions are confirmed when she catches Villanelle avidly following the subtitles while singing along quietly). Eve lies curled into Villanelle's side with her head on her chest, and one of Villanelle's hands ends up playing with Eve's hair. Once the movie is over, Eve rolls onto her side and Villanelle lies timidly behind her, draping one arm lightly over Eve's hip. Eve soon shuffles backwards, revelling in the sharp breath that whooshes out from between Villanelle's lips when their bodies press together. Before they properly drift off, Eve turns to face her lover. Their noses touch, and Villanelle places the softest of kisses on Eve's waiting lips.

“Thank you for the cake,” Eve whispers.

“Thank you for… everything,” Villanelle whispers back.

They fall asleep wrapped up in each other, with Villanelle's lips pressed against Eve's neck.

The next morning, Villanelle wakes first, as usual. But instead of slipping away like she normally does – she stays. She stays in Eve's arms, heart fluttering as she tries to decipher the strange new emotion that’s bubbling beneath her skin. She’s not sure, but it feels a lot like… happiness? Something she’s craved for so long. A safe place. A safe person.

Villanelle never used to see herself as the kind of person who deserved love. She was often cruel, and wicked, and she hurt a lot of people. And part of her knows that she did that willingly. She did that because it was all she had. It was the only life she knew.

But now. Now she knows something different, something rich and fulfilling and _good._

Eve had managed to dredge up the tiny shred of light that still existed deep down inside of her. She pulled it out and nurtured it, nourished it, until it grew into something Villanelle didn’t ever think was possible.

Now, she knows true happiness. Some of her old self still remains, though. She still has days of anger, and hostility, and fear. Sometimes she leaves for a day or two, and Eve's only comfort is found in a scribbled note or a hastily-typed text. But she always comes back. And these days, she’s been leaving less and staying more. Not just for Eve. But for the way she feels when they’re together. Safe, and happy. And normal.

Villanelle, who grew accustomed to feeling unwanted, who viciously killed people without a second thought – she’d been given a second chance. A chance at a happy life. A chance to experience real love. A real family.

And, most importantly: she’d found her very own someone to watch movies with.


End file.
